[Cold air crept it's way off the street seemingly out of nowhere and on to the nearby sidewalk like a fog creeping into a hapless town. It felt like tiny knives jabbing carelessly into his well-muscled calf. It slid under, swirled around and melted through his denim pant leg encasing it in minus degree temperatures. It steadily slithered it's way around his quickly tensing lower leg, rising gradually up his thigh, singeing the nerve endings into numbness. He could feel it, but by now it had gotten to the point where he could only ask himself: "Well how could you not feel it?". To some it may have come as a surprise that the temperature today was minus 15 below Celsius, but to him, it almost didn't seem cold enough. As it traversed through the narrow space in the crotch of his pants and covered the other leg, he felt the cold make what seemed like a mad dash towards his abdomen. Sliding up past his hips and onto his torso. Before long he could feel it crawling ever so slowly up towards his neck, already overlapping the blood flow in his arms, and causing it to circulate at a sluggish pace. Of course he could have always just shaken the cold off of him like dog wetted by a hose, but it just didn't seem to bother him. So far beyond being simply used to the feeling, he had become numb to even register in his mind that he was feeling it at all. But deep down he could always feel the cold chilling his body with natural cryogenics. It didn't concern him that every time he got this way, he actually found himself anxiously awaiting the second the deep freeze would chill well past the top of his head; To the point of feeling a freezing wave flowing constantly across his entire body. But that feeling never came, as much as he wanted it to, it would never take all of him away completely.]
~"A burning man."~
[He had heard that term used before in his life. But he couldn't tack it on to any available memory he had so that it pieced into his life the way remembering how your day had been so far could easily be recalled. It wasn't something from the memory he could just call up and remember vividly from time to time, whenever he wanted to. It was the surreal kind of memory that came with his lifestyle. The kind of memory you recall that seems sometimes more a notch in the bedpost as opposed to something you could analyze if the mood should strike you. "Ahhh, the burning man. I know him well." It echoed through his brain like so many clichéd move narratives. The feeling he got when he heard it in his head was that he was steadily losing warmth, much faster than gaining cold. He felt that it was a bad thing, no he knew it wasn't a good thing. Whereas before he was called "A burning man.", someone who just can't sit still for too long before being engulfed in the very flames he's come to depend on for his very survival, to now, where he couldn't get a even a Zippo lighter to ignite, let alone spark; No matter how many times he scraped the flint as hard as he could. This difference between hot and cold became a day to day nuisance for him. He was never truly happy, and never truly sad, he was that fine line drawn between every opposite. He was the center of an Oreo cookie, the creamy inside that everyone truly strived to get at, but regretted getting there so quickly once they had reached it, as it had finished the experience all too early. He felt like he should be on one of the opposites, always hot or always cold... one or the other, he felt the need to choose. The need to be somewhere distinguishable, where he could finally feel set apart from the rest. He could only stop and wonder if he was near that point yet, or if he still had light years to go.]
~"Ronald McDonald is the best person to talk to when you're in need..."~
[Feeling the cold as he stood here wasn't a problem, it was just something that drifted in and out of his mind as he stood and waited for a response. It wasn't a place he ended up often, his rise to fame had dictated that he need not eat at fast food restaurants anymore, because it would only cause him more trouble than it was actually worth. So he could say that he really didn't want to come near this place, the possibility of a celebrity sighting was always increased when they just stood out in public. He had gotten several fans approach him already in what only seemed like a Twilight Zone moment to him; This was the celebrity he had created for himself after being back in the Gladiator Wrestling Association for only a short while. Some of it felt good to know he had risen out of the ashes of his former self and made this new him into something worth approaching on a street corner. But most of it felt like hero worship that was misplaced. He hadn't earned anything... yet. But that was going to change, and soon. None of the roster, staff or officials saw it coming... but Marcus did. He knew what those who had asked for it were going to get when the time rolled around.]
Gaines: Are you listening, Ronald? I asked you a question. What do you think I should do about this Anton Rayge match? We fight alongside one another for a common goal. I can't beat him to a bloody pulp just for a title, can I? I can't rob him of any dignity he has left when he and I move under the shadow of the same name: The Chosen. A name that brought five men together to combat something so much worse than anything Rayge or myself may have done in the past.
[His gaze rested on the figure's eyes that again only looked past him, as if it wasn't even hearing him or anything he was saying. The cold he felt from the temperature was now matched by the cold he was feeling from this being that was supposed to listen to whatever he had to say without prejudice or malice towards him. Ronald was supposed to understand things from a perspective not many people had the privilege of owning, and report to Marcus with the knowledge he picked up from that perspective.]
Gaines: [Waving his hands across Ronald's field of vision.] Please at least say something. Rayge isn't someone I have interest in fighting, let alone having to beat. I'd rather let him be and pursue his own path, and me pursue mine. Rayge is someone I've not only fought with, but now someone I've suffered with.
[Scratching the bandaged finger Storm had decided to operate on with his other hand, Marcus smiled somewhat. Thinking over Storm's actions of the night before, and remembering how Anton had dealt with the blow that had been inflicted on him.]
Gaines: Rayge, just like the rest of the Chosen and I were all victim to Storm's attack, Anton, some could argue got it worse then everyone. Anton has been through a lot that I know of... I don't know if I want to deal him anymore harsh blows that might crush his fragile ego any further than it already has through his ordeal with his stable the Brotherhood being broken down to nothing... Please give me an opinion here, Ronald. No one else is forthcoming enough to tell me what to think. The Chosen and I aren't even in total contact, not that we really ever were, so none of them are willing to give me any advice. The only person I can count on is you, Ronald.
[Marcus eyed the man, contempt growing as Ronald ceased to say a word, ceased to even gratify him with any response whatsoever, failed to even look him in the eye when being spoken to. Marcus moved to intercept Ronald's gaze, hoping he was only day dreaming while he listened to a friend in need; Hoping Ronald was merely watching Marcus' back whilst he talked. But as Marcus entered Ronald's definite field of view, the eyes still never truly looking upon him. Even when Gaines had interrupted his stare, he still seemed to stare right through him as if he weren't even there.]
Gaines: [Stepping closer to confront the non-moving Ronald McDonald standing before him.] What the hell is the matter with you, Ronald? You think you're better than me or something? Is that it?
[Marcus pushed his hand into the oddly enough hardened formation of his jacket, trying to slightly push Ronald backward, making himself feel better in the process.]
Gaines: Ahhh! You think you're a tough one, hmm? It isn't going to help your business there, you being such a stuck up jerk that you won't even respond to a simple question when asked is it? It's going to show guests that you and the people that work under you are nothing more than pricks!
[Anger building further inside of him, he get up even closer in Ronald's face, so now the two were standing upon the same cement platform, with Gaines trying his best to get Ronald to incite something, giving himself an excuse to hit something back for all the anger he was feeling at this second. But the figure that shared the same perch as him only stared forward, waving at all who passed by, and still looking right through him. Marcus looked indignantly into Ronald's shiny pupils for a moment, concentrating deeply, trying to see something there that would change his mind, but saw nothing. Blowing a raspberry, he turned away from Ronald, all the cold air got colder as he stirred up wind, and he slowly stepped off the cement pedestal, and bundled his jacket up to combat the weather he could feel. Slowly, he started to walk away.]
Voice: Hey. Where do you think you're going?
[Marcus stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the figure he had just tried to pick a fight with. Ronald had dropped his waving hand to his side, and had angled his body to look at Marcus, while still keeping the statue-like stance of set movements; Like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.]
Gaines: You! NOW you decide to open your mouth? Got something you finally want to say to me? Something you feel can illuminate the subject? All's you had to do was answer me, Ronald and we'd still be on amicable terms. But no. You had to be a wise-a**. You had to be brave and strike a pose. You make me sick you burger flipping clown from the stone age.
[Marcus turned back around to face Ronald, feeling the cold bitterly rise up and seem to get cold. He shivered out of reflex, not because it felt cold. Ronald stood back aghast for a second, his stone-like arms moving mechanically to his sides, where they rested on his waist. His face contorted in strange directions as a surprised look crossed across his brow.]
Ronald: I'm sorry, Marcus. I was watching those people over there. They were having a great time looking and laughing as you talked to me... like you were crazy or something. I was going to say something, but I had to wait till they left, I don't want you're image being taken down any further than it already is, you know.
[Marcus stared at Ronald McDonald for a second, watching in awe as Ronald strained at his feet, which were bolted into the ground, struggling against the bolts as he finally managed to uproot his big red shoes from the ground, and ambled awkwardly towards Marcus' awestruck form.]
Gaines: Ronald McDonald... I'm sorry I flew off the handle like that. Had I known you were looking out for my best interest I would have played along. But as usual, my stupidity forced me to be shortsighted enough to only see my side of the story. I should have known that of all the people I'd call a friend, you'd be the one to never turn me away. Forgive me?
[Ronald smiled casually, making Marcus chuckle with gleeful laughter he hadn't heard come from anywhere inside of him in a long time. Marcus reached his arms around Ronald's hulking statue form, and hugged him tightly, not truly wanting to let go of a figure who had somehow become a surrogate father to him in only a matter of minutes.]
Ronald: Of course I forgive you, ya big lug. [Patting Marcus on the back gently to avoid slamming molded cement against bone.] Come on. Let's go get something to eat. Just you and me.
[Marcus let go of Ronald, and let him lead the way around the back of the McDonald's restaurant, leaving the street behind them, and crossing over into a territory Marcus felt strangely safe in.]
~"Ronald McDonald knows how to listen."~
[They sat beside one another on the back curb of the restaurant. Away from prying eyes, away from ears that wanted nothing more than to hear some strange talk between a statue and a relatively famous drug-addict, and most importantly away from reality. It had gone from early evening to just after primetime, and the temperature was dropping lower and lower as the two sat. Their happy meal containers laying open near the fly-infested garbage bin nearby, and their full stomach's slowly digesting the food they had just heartily eaten. Tossing a piece of wax paper into the bin, Marcus looked casually at Ronald and smiled for a second, then realized again why it was he was here in the first place. Remembering his dilemma of fighting Rayge on Wednesday...]
Gaines: So what do you think, Ronald? Should I go into this match against Rayge, even if I already know that this will most likely drive a permanent wedge between any friendship he and I might have? If ever we were to join forces again, this whole ordeal would be at the forefront. Maybe he'll never trust me after I take this title from him; Even if neither of us truly want it, it's still an achievement. One that he may not truly want to give up just yet. What if this match in itself serves to split up the entire Chosen? Ending anything before it really got started?
[Ronald sat and stared forward, his normally red clown lips, smeared with ketchup and mustard, and swirls of secret sauce where he had failed to even open his cement mouth to fit the burger inside. He methodically crumpled a piece of cardboard under the weight of his fist, and slowly opening it to find a very condensed version of what it once was. He threw it away and looked at Marcus.]
Ronald: Marcus, much like Anton Rayge you have still much to learn. I think you realize what the Chosen as a whole means to you. You know what's important. You're not around to help anyone else's career but your own. If that means stepping on a few über friends than so be it. Rayge won't be any worse off if he gets beaten than he already is. It isn't like it would be new to him. And while I can't make any decisions for you, at the same time it's my duty as Ronald McDonald to help you with your conflict of interest. I say fight him. Easy as that. Even though it really isn't like you have any choice in the matter. Whether you like it or not, you're going to show up at that arena on Wednesday and fight whomever GWA says you have to because that's the type of person that you are, Marcus.
[Marcus sighed, looking down at the pockmarked ground, breathing softly as he ran over the words he had just heard. Nodding gently, he stood up off the curb and slowly began pacing around the stationary Ronald McDonald, who followed him around with his eyes.]
Gaines: You're right and all. I mean I know I'm going to fight Rayge, and it really doesn't matter to me about this Chosen stuff because, well it really doesn't mean all that much to me right now anyways. I guess my real question is do I go all out on someone I can't help but pity? Anton Rayge used to be seven feet tall, and now he's shrunk down to six. He used to weigh three hundred pounds, now he weighs two hundred and thirty, all the grief and suffering he puts up with must do wonders to his body. If I beat him too badly, whose to say he won't drop another hundred pounds and shrink another few feet? I'd hate to leave this guy a midget, Ronald.
[Ronald smirks, or tries his hardest to pull one off rather through his cement lips. And with a crooked, half-smile, he stares up at Marcus who has since stopped pacing, and looks suspiciously at him.]
Ronald: That's not the whole reason is it? Things happen for a reason... if Anton Rayge shrinks anymore, aside from calling Guiness you won't have to do a single thing. What's the main reason you're so divided on this match, Marcus?
[Marcus could only stare at Ronald for a moment as he thought things over in his mind.]
Gaines: The main reason? I don't want to go all out on someone who can be broken down so easily. I can just see him fretting over fighting someone who has garnered more respect from his biggest enemy than he ever could. I can see this becoming a quest for Anton Rayge. Something he will have to prove. Because now, not only does he have to prove he can't be beaten by Marcus Gaines, but he has to prove to Johnny Storm that Anton Rayge is worth respecting. Anton Rayge knows well enough that Storm doesn't look at him the way he does me. Even if I've "disappointed" him, Johnny Storm knows the only fight worth having right now is the one he can get from me, not from Anton Rayge, not from Chris Cane, not from anyone. And this is going to tear Rayge apart. Rayge has worked his life at building something, only to see it crumble under the overwhelming majority that Johnny Storm created. Storm ran right over a dynasty in the making and it could have only crushed Anton Rayge to the point that perhaps he wanted no part of this business after the fact. Anton Rayge would thrive if he knew that he was feared as much by Johnny Storm, as Johnny Storm is indeed feared by Anton Rayge. That's why. I don't want to break this man's image of himself down. It's out of pity that I'm divided on this match, Ronald McDonald. I don't want to have to march into that ring, and show Anton Rayge just why it is that Johnny Storm may never truly respect him the way he does me. I want this guy to build himself up into something he may actually have a chance of becoming, as opposed to knocking him back down the ladder, possibly never to get back up afterward.
[Ronald sat and nodded while the cool breeze picked up all around them, forming small frost particles on not just Marcus, but surprisingly Ronald's cement form. When next Ronald spoke, it seemed more laborious than before, more as if the cold's growing intensity was having more of an affect on him, than it was on Marcus.]
Ronald: I..... guess.... I can...
[Ever so slowly the cold halted his words, until his mouth slowly began to solidify, and lock in one position. Whereas the cold was nothing to him, it was slowly freezing Ronald McDonald where he sat. Marcus could only stand there and stare in horror as ever so slowly Ronald froze completely before his eyes. His cement frame ceased to move at all... just as it was only a few hours prior. Marcus stood for a second, wondering if Ronald was merely looking out for his interests again; But as he moved in closer to examine Ronald, he noticed frost crystals littering his body, giving it a bluish sheen.]
Gaines: Ron... Ronald?
[Slowly, he reached an arm out to touch Ronald on the chest, but as soon as his finger made contact, Ronald's entire body burst open, shattering into thousands of bluish, red and yellow pieces, scattering across the back parking lot of McDonalds. Marcus let out a faint shout out of surprise once it had happened. Stepping back from the remains of what was something he had begun to respect extremely, he investigated the parking lot, making sure no one had seen what had just happened. His finger actually feeling chilly after touching the frozen chest, he panicked, letting out a breath he could easily see in the night air, and left it hanging there as he ran off in the direction of his hotel room, on the other side of town.]